


The Photograph

by chiarodiluna



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, Pre-Relationship, Young Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 07:45:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13608789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiarodiluna/pseuds/chiarodiluna
Summary: A portrait on Jack's mother's mantlepiece captures Phryne's attention.





	The Photograph

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a fabulous photo manipulation by tumblr user @fraddit which I saw for the first time today.
> 
> I'll post the image in the notes at the bottom so as not to distract everyone as completely as Phryne is distracted. LOL
> 
> Thanks to @Sarahtoo for pre-reading and reassuring me when I panicked about posting my first MFMM fic. :)

It was the most arresting portrait she had ever seen. The solemn expression on the young man’s face and the deep pools of his eyes drew her in almost as completely as their older counterparts did, leaving her breathless. She couldn’t stop herself from reverently lifting the frame to look more closely at the image. Even through the false casualness of the pose, Jack’s nobility shone like a beacon. It was only his mischievous streak that was missing from this portrait, but Phryne didn’t mind. That aspect of his personality was a special secret shared with those who were close to him. She found herself daydreaming about a satisfying encounter with this proper young soldier and his luscious mouth that delighted her more than she would care to admit to.

“My beautiful boy,” a smooth voice commented quietly just next to Phryne’s shoulder and she couldn’t help but jump like a child caught stealing sweets. She clutched the photo frame to her chest as she turned to the woman who’d snuck up on her.

Jack’s mother, Annie, was strong, confident, quiet and intelligent, just like her son.

“See any young men ‘round here that tickle your fancy?” She also liked to tease just as much as her son did. She stared at Phryne with a twinkle in her eye and a badly hidden smirk.

“Well, _he_ certainly looks handsome,” Phryne answered and pointed to another frame standing on the mantle, this one contained a portrait of Jack’s father in his 20s. Her artless attempt to distract Annie did not go unnoticed, but the older woman gamely looked over at the portrait and hummed to herself.

“Yes, he certainly was. Our Jack inherited his good looks.” She indicated the frame in Phryne’s arms with a little nod of her head. Phryne gave in and pulled the photo back to look at it again. She just barely resisted the urge to trace his face with her finger.

“And his nobility,” Annie added after a moment. “Do you know, John refused to even hold my hand for two months after we were engaged?!”

“Sounds familiar,” Phryne muttered under her breath.

“Said he wanted me to be assured of his respect. I think he just wanted to make me want him more than I needed air to breathe, and it certainly worked.” She smiled fondly at the image of her husband for a moment, then turned her piercing gaze back to Phryne, who nervously gulped in response. “Has Jack… held your hand yet?”

“Oh… We’re not— We haven’t— He—” Phryne stuttered. _Why_ did this woman always make her so nervous?

She’d met Annie a couple of months before when Jack had been instructed by his mother to “bring that dashing lady detective of yours to Sunday dinner, Jackie, she sounds delightful.” Phryne had been grilled about her family (both near and far), her house, her exciting adventures, and the gruesome details of some of the cases she and Jack had worked on, while Jack dug into his roast with an air of resignation that only comes with experience. Since then she’d met the woman a few times: running into her on the street outside City South as one woman was headed in to see Jack and the other left; at a fundraising event organised by Aunt P where Jack brought his mother as his guest; and once when she treated Jack and Annie to a night at the opera.

This was only the second time she’d been to Annie’s home and she hadn’t had the opportunity to snoop last time. 

“Jack and I are not—”

“Mum, where did you—” Jack stopped in his tracks moments after entering the parlour. There was an odd sort of tension in the room and he didn’t know what to make of it. As far as he was aware, Phryne and his mother got on like a house on fire.

Phryne found herself clutching the photo frame to her chest again and plastered the most innocent look she could possibly manage on her face. Annie smiled tightly.

“What have I always told you about interrupting your mother’s conversations, dear?” Her tone was dangerously cool.

“Sorry, mum.” His eyes flickered downward.

“I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“Yes, mum.” He met Phryne’s eyes briefly before fleeing the parlour.

“That was a close call!” Annie laughed as she turned back to Phryne, who blinked at the sudden warmth in the woman’s voice. “That boy always keeps me on my toes.”

Phryne laughed nervously and finally relinquished the photo frame, placing it carefully on the mantle. His dark eyes drew her in again and she didn’t look away as his mother spoke in a confidential tone.

“He didn’t want to sit for that photograph. He thought it frivolous, but Rosie and I insisted and he gave in.” She paused for a long moment, then, “He was so full of darkness after Europe. Not even his father could get through to him for the first few years after he returned.”

Phryne couldn’t have said anything if she wanted to. Her throat constricted with pain.

“You were there too?” Annie asked gently. Phryne simply nodded with her eyes still trained on young Jack’s portrait, and Annie hummed in acknowledgement in exactly the same way that Jack did. “I’m glad you’ve found each other. I should go see what he wanted so desperately.”

Phryne found her voice as Annie reached the door. “Jack and I aren’t courting each other, Mrs Robinson.”

“He learned well from his father, it seems.” With a parting smirk, she left the room.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the full glorious post from fraddit [here](http://fraddit.tumblr.com/post/155853486261/as-a-person-who-is-more-than-a-little-interested).
> 
> More specifically, this image:  
> 


End file.
